#Second is the steadfast denial that I need any food | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

in-tua-deep · 5 years

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Responsible Luther prompt/concept I can't get off my mind: Luther taking care of sick Five and Klaus (one of them got the other sick?) and ends up catching it from them but acts like he's fine/denies it and won't stop obsessing over them and then he ends up getting worse from overworking himself and then they return the love and take care of him

okay okay okay the way i have decided to interpret Luther’s powers are strength/durability combo because getting slammed by a chandelier and then just casually walked it off ?? and he came back from the moon with seemingly no real ill effects?

so what i’m saying is Luther does not get sick often. never. his siblings get taken out by the flu when they’re kids and Luther doesn’t quite lord it over the rest of the family but he certainly prances around with an extra spring in his step while his siblings with stuffy noses glare at him with murder in their eyes

so when Luther does get sick it hits hard

but that’s okay because by the time the virus sneaks its way past Luther’s considerably fortified immune system it’s well after the rest of the family has already gotten through with the others so there’s that at least so for a few snotty terrible weeks it’s everyone else who is sick while Luther plays nursemaid

so it’s actually Vanya who gets sick first, caught from someone in the orchestra who came to practice while contagious. Vanya gets sick, and the family collectively comes to the agreement that someone needs to be there to get her some soup and tissues and stuff while she rests.

Diego is elected to be the One. Mainly because, as Luther points out, Five is a child, Luther has work, and Klaus would just end up bringing it home and infecting everyone. Diego protests that he doesn’t want to get sick either, Luther challenges him about his whole body-is-a-temple nonsense and says that if Diego is really the picture of health then surely his body can fight off a little cold long enough for Vanya to be feeling better. But, Luther supposes that he can take care of Vanya if Diego is really afraid of -

and of course Diego takes the bait because despite everything Luther and Diego still have their dumb little rivalry going on. Though, admittedly, it’s much more lighthearted these days since Luther stopped being their dad’s loyal dog and finally bit the hand that abused them

except Diego’s immune system doesn’t even last a whole day (probably because someone from the gym already infected him and not because of Vanya) and he’s just completely flat out and dead. tbh luther’s all for leaving them to sweat it out in Vanya’s apartment but Five and Klaus insist on being family and Allison gives him a disapproving look over the phone somehow so Vanya and Diego end up on the couches gently dying

“I am not responsible if you get sick.” Luther says, crossing his arms and staring down his whole family. “I am not responsible for this disaster in the making. And if you get sick I am not looking after you.”

“You say that.” Klaus says, grinning where he’s dabbing at Diego’s forehead with a washcloth far too enthusiastically to actually be of any use (and just enough to be entirely a nuisance). “But we all know you totally will.”

and Klaus is absolutely right

and look Klaus’s immune system isn’t great, and Five’s isn’t that much better since being somewhat scarce on food isn’t great for general development and health (actually food scarcity during formative years/pre or during pubescence can really fuck u up just check out some research on people surviving famines and the later effects) so yeah they’re both out for the count after a little while

so it’s Luther who ends up grudgingly making soup (and maybe burning it just a little) and making sure all his idiot siblings get plenty of fluids and rest

(Five is a miserable sick because he’s even more spacey and prone to mixing up his timeline and is way more prone to panic attacks and flashbacks and Klaus is equally miserable because he has,, pretty much the same problems tbh)

(Diego is a whiney sick who complains bitterly and Vanya is a responsible sick who is the one who makes everyone tea even though she’s still all gross and stuffed up)

it’s miserable but they all manage to pull through it despite the fact that someone is murdered on at least half a dozen different occasions (Diego is almost smothered with a pillow on the first day because he wouldn’t shut up about the achey feeling he had all over, to name but one occasion) and everyone is getting over it

and that’s when Luther feels the tickle at the back of his throat. He ignores it, of course, because it’s nothing. It’s nothing. This was old news, his siblings getting sick and him being just fine. It’s normal.

So he steadfastly ignores when that tickle turns into an actual sore throat. He probably just yelled at Diego too loudly or something. He ignores it when he wakes up aching all over.

It’s a little more difficult to ignore when that sore throat and achey feeling turn into the snottiest nose in existence, if Luther does say so himself. It seems like one of his nostrils has decided it’s new job is to turn into the niagara falls of snot.

“You’re sick, Luth.” Five tells him over breakfast, looking very judgey.

“No I’m not.” Luther denies thickly.

Five and Klaus share a look that Luther steadfastly ignores even exists.

Of course it’s much more difficult to ignore when he’s hacking up a lung and spitting phlegm into the sink.

“If you say anything I will disown you both.” He swears to the two individuals lurking in the door to the kitchen.

“My lips are sealed.” Klaus says, loudly, miming zipping his lips shut and throwing away the key. Of course, the effect is ruined by the fact that he immediately opens his mouth back up again. “Not a word shall be spoken about the fact that you are undoubtedly, woefully, ridiculously sick and in denial about this sad, sad fact.”

Luther would absolutely punch Klaus if there wasn’t more than one of him, and the fact that he might hit Five if he missed. Which, given the general stuffed up feeling of his head was not only likely but probable.

“You could just let us take care of you.” Five drawls, looking incredibly unimpressed. Even more so than normal, which was quite the feat considering that Five was the only siblings left still coming off the tail end of his own sickness. Pale and a tiny bit shakey with a hand firmly planted on Mr. Pennycrumb’s head to take comfort in the dog’s steadfast loyalty.

“I’m not sick.” Luther denies again, begrudgingly taking the tissue that Klaus offeres with knowing eyes.

“He’s hopeless.” Klaus tells Five sympathetically. He pats Luther’s shoulder just a little bit condescendingly as he does so, which Luther would smack his hand off but he’s just a tiny bit dizzy right now, thank you.

“You know.” Five drawls again, “Vanya brought around all those disney movies that Klaus has been yelling about catching up on. I was thinking maybe we could start on them?”

Luther absolutely does not trust the glint behind Five’s eye, but he can’t actually think of a good reason to say no. So he just nods and blows his nose noisily into the tissue with a mildly miserable expression.

And if Luther falls asleep before the movie even really begins, and if Klaus and Five gently drape a blanket across him and turn the volume down several degrees to watch over him. Well, that’s neither here nor there.

If Luther wakes up in the middle of the night to the opening menu of WALL-E, with Klaus leaning back against the couch with his head tilted back and snoring like a skinny lawnmower and Five and Mr. Pennycrumb spooning on the floor - well Luther might try and deny the warm feeling in his chest even as it ached from his sickness but he does his best to commit the soft and admittedly domestic scene to memory.

They never got to do this, as kids that is. They would sneak into one another’s rooms under the cover of night and offer what comfort they could, yes. But always watchful and vigilant and careful of the eyes of their father coming to punish them for their kindness and compassion. They were weapons. Tools. And tools were not meant to be soft.

Hate sweeps over Luther with a suddenness that steals his breath away and brings tears to his eyes. Because Five is sprawled out, and Klaus is snoring, and Mr. Pennycrumb is twitching as he dreams of chasing cars and other such things. They’re all relaxed and carefree, and Luther just needs to take a second to realize that it took twenty-nine years for the Hargreeves children to be able to let down their walls for even an instant.

They could have had this, they should have had this, all along. They should have been able to fall asleep on the sofa watching disney movies, staying up late and cracking jokes and laughing as loud as they want without the fear of their father swooping in and stealing it out from under them.

Five shifts a little in his sleep, and Luther realizes that his fists are clenched too tightly in the blanket he doesn’t remember falling asleep under. He unclenches and allows the wrinkled fabric to fall from his grasp, face softening at his littlest brother. He’s so small when he sleeps. It’s not the first time Luther has thought that, and it won’t be the last. But each time it takes Luther’s breath away.

(Or it would, if said breath hadn’t already been stolen by the congestion in his sinuses, ugh.)

Luther lays back down and closes his eyes, not quite willing to take himself off to bed and leave these doofuses by themselves. So he closes his eyes, and thinks of sheep.

He already knows his family will be there in the morning.

#responsible luther au #tua #the umbrella academy #luther hargreeves #five hargreeves #number five #klaus hargreeves #diego hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #allison hargreeves #they're all tiny bastards but they love each other

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cookignis · 7 years

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I recently read some salt on Ignis and I couldn’t have clicked that heart any harder or faster. So I ended up writing my feelings on it.

Disclaimer: My ire isn’t aimed at anyone in particular but the general fandom.

From what we understand in canon, Ignis comes from a well to do family judging from his instilled sense of responsibility, manners and spoken language. Even with his uncle recommendation, there would be no way Regis would simply take some six year old boy he doesn’t know from some other region to be his son’s future right hand.

That said, we don’t know much about Ignis’ backstory as in where he came from or who his parents are. Or even really how he came to be chosen by Regis. The most reasonable explanation would be prestige of some sorts that the Scientia family is known for other than uncle working in the Citadel.

We know that the boys grew up alongside one another with Ignis watching his charge ever so closely. We also don’t see Ignis having friends outside of Prompto and Gladio (who were Noctis’ friends first; Ignis knew Gladio as Clarus’ son and from his Crownsguard training), so we are able to assume that Ignis kept himself busy with schooling, training, council meetings and tending to Noctis. That doesn’t change from when he was six to present day twenty-two.

Noctis will always be Ignis’ first priority (this is the same for Gladio who was raised to take his father’s place as the future king’s shield). Every decision he will ever or has ever made was done with first and foremost considering how it will affect Noctis and by extension, his duty towards him. Ignis’ loyalties lie not with the crown or Lucis, they are to Noctis. Noctis whom he has pledged his life to stand beside so long as he is able and so long as Noctis wishes him there.

In the same vein, we see that Ignis is not some yes-man who obeys the prince’s orders. No, he goes against Noctis’ wishes if he knows it will cause him harm in the long run or if it’s for his own good. An easy example? Vegetables and healthy foods.

A stunning case of Ignis’ need for perfection and steadfast devotion to Noctis? He takes up cooking after Noctis comes back from his interrupted treatment Tenebrae, still the sullen and quiet child he was after the Daemon attack. Ignis makes it his job to perfect the dessert recipe to cheer Noctis up and return him to the boy he was before. Not because Ignis likes cooking or that it’s his hobby…..

Cooking is not Ignis’ hobby. He doesn’t particularly even like cooking he does it because it becomes part of his duty on the road (lest they all survive on Gladio’s variation of cup noodles, canned foods and unhealthy fast food). Everything Ignis does, he puts everything into it and does it to stunning perfection (or he tries to aim close to it as much as he can). The reason he always comes up with new recipes? Improve and expand his repertoire like any good chef would. But at the end of the day, his interests in cooking stemmed from wanting to make Noctis happy.

I die every time someone seriously insists that Ignis is a mom. He is not a mom. He’s not doing this out of some motherly instincts or sentiments. It is his duty to keep Noctis safe and healthy, and again by extension, Prompto and Gladio. Does he feel love and friendship towards the two? Of course, he trusts them with his life and to protect Noctis.

If we look at when Ignis went blind, he questions himself and his usefulness to Noctis. A man who wears glasses because he always has to have a clear vision of everything has lost his most valuable sense. He doesn’t want to become baggage to hold Noctis back or God forbid, place him in danger. Ignis goes into a fervent denial, claiming that he can take care of himself (when he really couldn’t in the mines) because if he loses this, he has nothing. He devoted his whole life to this, without it, he loses meaning. At the end of the Marlboro fight, he comes to terms with the possibility of his inability to remain at their side: ‘if I find that I cannot keep up, I will bow out’. But Ignis tries his fucking best to keep up during the remaining chapters and that shows how committed he is to Noctis, to the team.

As such, I disagree with a lot of the shipping done in fics, rp and doujins (and whatever else). Most of these disregard the fact that whoever Ignis’ partner is, they will always be second to Noctis as long as he is alive. Ignis would never drop the only life he has known for sixteen years and the person he has devoted his life to for romance. Ignis values his responsibilities and duty too much to flow with whimsical feelings; we see this in the game, whenever he devises plans or makes decisions, they are always objective. He sees the goal at the end of the line and becomes infuriated when his plans and stratagem are foiled. Ignis doesn’t sugarcoat or mince words to spare feelings, he’s always concise and straight to the point (he doesn’t waste time).

But, of course, he isn’t some unfeeling robot. Feelings of others are considered but they are secondary to the goal, which usually involves Noctis in some way, shape or form.

Of course, I am not saying I am the end all be all of Ignis portrayals. There are great Ignis blogs out there who probably do a more stellar job than I do. But this is just my two cents.

#;ooc #;headcanons #//I guess for some of it yeah #;lickin that salt #//lays down #//I will never not cry about him tbh

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8cetera · 7 years

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Hush (Part Two)

Barba x Reader Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven Finale

You sit up on the bed abruptly, startled by the loud vibration coming from the wall behind you. You rub your eyes trying to get used to the noise combined with the sunlight slipping through the curtains.

The vibrations were so fierce that it made your watch move across the bedside table. When the drilling stopped, you hoped that meant that they were finally done. The clamorous sounds were replaced by the harmonious chirping of robins on the other side of the window.

A sound you very much preferred.

You pull the soft sheets to cover your body, suddenly mindful of the quaint chilly air. You slowly slide back down on the bed, eager to rid your thoughts of the interruptions to your sleep.

The moment your head touched the pillow, however, the drilling noise had returned, seemingly louder than before. You lifted the blanket so that it covered your head, and groaned in irritation.

“They’ve been at it for two days.”

You lowered the blanket just enough to peek at the person next to you. Rafael’s eyelids remained closed, making you wonder how long he had actually been awake. He craned his neck slightly, and interlaced his fingers before placing them on his abdomen. You smiled at the small shimmy movement he made to try and make himself more comfortable.

Clearly you weren’t the only one in denial about not being able to sleep a bit longer. Not that it surprised you. You were almost sure even Rafael could not remember the last time he actually slept in.

Rest would be good for him, you thought, as you took mental note of the dark circles under his eyes and his hollow cheeks. You survey the stubble that decorated his jaw, a pleasant combination of dark and gray hairs that grazed your skin when you kept your bodies wrapped against one another.

You move closer to him to place a chaste kiss on his bare shoulder. A part of you still questioned this reality; lying here by his side, waking up to the sounds of construction work together. You wondered if you were being too bold, and if you were jinxing it if you admitted that this was beginning to feel like a perfect morning?

“It’s been such a pain.” He continued, turning his head towards you and squinted his eyes to adjust to the brightness of the room. “At least in the office I could avoid most of it.”

You chuckled and swung your legs off the bed. Admitting defeat knowing you could no longer go back to sleep, and surrendering to the grumbling of your stomach alerting you that it was time for food. You grab a t-shirt, a pair of leggings and the toothbrush that was on top of your suitcase.

After coming out of the bathroom, you decide to voice your curiosity.

“Speaking of which, how much time are you taking off? How long must the city survive without you?”

Adding a purposeful dramatic flare to your question you turn to Rafael hoping he’d find humor in it. However, all you found was a blank expression looking back at you.

“I haven’t decided yet.”

Slightly confused at his serious tone but not wanting to question him at that moment, you offer to make the coffee, knowing it was something you both surely needed first thing in the morning.

“You’re the best, thank you. Do you need help?” He pushes himself up the bed and leans against the headboard.

“Ah-ah.” You said, motioning with your finger for him to stop getting out of bed.

“You showed me where everything was last time. I’ll be fine.”

After setting up the french press, you open the fridge to see if you could find any food you could prepare for breakfast. Much to your disappointment, all that you could find were salad ingredients, a clementine, and half a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc.

You shook your head wondering how long it’s been like this.

You grab the mugs from the cabinet and began pouring the coffee, the aroma of the dark roast immediately putting you in a better mood. You were halfway done with the first mug when his landline began to ring. You called out his name, but seconds after it rang the noises of drilling resurfaced. You attempted to call him out again, and louder this time, but there was no use. You set the french press down and quickly lift the cordless off to bring it to him but paused when you heard that it had gone to voicemail.

“Darn it.” You whispered.

You set the phone back into its handle just as the beep sounded.

“Mr. Barba, it’s Carmen-”

You smiled at the sound of her voice, reminding yourself to visit his office so you could see her again.

“I know you said not to call you at home but Lieutenant Benson dropped by twice today to ask why you aren’t answering your cell phone-”

You tilt your head. That’s strange, you thought, why wouldn’t he be answering her calls?

“She said, and I’m quoting- just because you’re on suspension doesn’t mean you have to go completely off the grid.”

Carmen must have said two or three sentences before ending the voice mail, but you couldn’t remember most of it. Something about calling her back and a file that she needed to send to another DA.

You attempted to rationalize the situation. It had to be a mistake. An unworldly misunderstanding. You would accept that that was the case from either you or him. It had to be. What else was there?

You see both your hands shake as you reach for the mugs. You try your best to steady them as you walk back into the bedroom. Ignoring the fear and worry that was growing steadfast within you.

You sit cross legged at the end of the bed and hand Rafael his mug. He looked so pleased, slipping his thumbs through the handle so he could hold the mug with both hands. He brought the mug close to his face, breathing in the steam and letting out a deep breath before finally taking a sip to fulfill the satisfaction.

Now that you were both wide awake, you couldn’t help but notice more about his appearance. His hair was now standing up from all directions, and you could see the imprints that the pillows made on his chest. Thinking longer on it, you realized that it almost looked like a map.

Rafael leans in to give you a kiss on the lips, the kind of kiss you never wanted to end.

“There’s nothing like the first cup.”

His voice brought you back to reality. The reality that involved you deciding how you were going to bring up what you had heard in the kitchen. You take a sip of the coffee before starting, appreciating the flavor and letting it momentarily soothe your nerves.

“What made you decide now, Rafael? To take time off, I mean.”

You mentally scolded yourself. Were you trying to catch him in a lie?

This wasn’t fair to both of you.

He looked away from you and set the mug on the table.

“No reason. I guess I just felt like it was time.” That’s one lie, Rafael.

“There has to be. The last time you called me while I was in Tokyo you said you were building a case with that app creator. So what, that just disappeared?”

“Y-yes.” That’s two.

You begin to try and memorize the moment; his actions, his expressions. Regrettably, you also tried to remember if any of them were familiar to you.

You try and remember if he’s lied to you before.

He jumps out of the bed and heads to his closet, pulling out a cotton shirt and slipping it on. He crosses his arms and exhales loudly before continuing.

“I don’t know why you’re suddenly asking me all these questions. I thought you’d be happy to know that I was taking a break. You’re always telling me I work too hard, and that I don’t know how to enjoy the simple pleasures in life. What exactly is the probl-”

“Why are you lying to me?”

The words that came out from you were unexpectedly loud and harsh.

“What?”

“Carmen called earlier.” You said in a softer tone.

All the blood from his face seemed to have transferred to the bottom of his body. He also seemed to have trouble keeping his mouth closed after hearing what you said.

“I tried calling out for you, but her call went to voicemail; and well, she left a voicemail. Olivia is worried about you, she’s wondering why you’re off the grid during your suspension.”

“I told her specifically not to call, why doesn’t she-.” He must have thought he was mumbling to himself, but you caught the words.

“She’s not to blame for this, Rafael.”

He could only stare at you, and you could almost see his mind trying to formulate a response.

“Listen-” He held his hands up, looking at you as if you were about to pounce on him. The sight baffled you, but you continued to sit on his bed calmly.

“I am listening, Rafael. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I just needed some time. It’s been a hectic couple of days, the DA has hounded me for days leading up to yesterday, with questions that all mean the exact same thing. We’ve been trying our best to keep it out of the press, or I’m sure you would have heard by now.”

Silence was all you had, and so silence was all you could offer. You used your thumbs to trace the ring of the mug, trying your best to gather your thoughts. It didn’t help that Rafael was pacing the room, eyeing you ever so closely to prompt a response.

“I was going to tell you,” He repeated, massaging the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “I just-”

“I just needed a distraction.”

Rafael’s eyes were not on you, but if they were he would have seen what his words had done. You feel your shoulders weaken and the hairs rise from your neck. Oh, and the ache. Who knew that a few words could feel as though your heart was being stomped on repeatedly by a person you cared for so deeply. His words confirmed all the fears and doubts you had about being together.

You unfold your legs and stand up from the bed. You put you your arms around yourself, and as difficult as it was to do, you to look at him and say the words.

“I think I should go.”

“Perhaps you should.”

The moments that followed the aftermath of both your words were nothing but cold and silent.

The fact that it was your suggestion didn’t make it hurt any less. The disappointment you felt was an assurance that you still had a small glimmer of hope tucked away. That was long gone, now.

“I’ll call a cab.”

At this point, you just wanted him to stop speaking. Hearing that voice, the voice that could cheer you up at any given time, that same voice was now the source of such profound strain that you could hardly bear.

The farewell wasn’t difficult. It was brief, as it was lifeless.

Although it ended with a promise of a future meeting, it didn’t feel as though the meeting would be looked forward to. Even after insisting that he need not to, he still walked you down and placed your luggage in the cab’s trunk.

No embraces and no kisses.

He simply held your hand gently. Holding his as well, you tried to read his emotions. If you knew him as well as you thought, you might have guessed that it was regret that you read in his face.

You knew, however, that that could very well be farthest from the truth.

Five minutes into your journey home you allowed your tears to fall. The cab driver glanced at you from his rear view mirror, but you paid no attention. You continue letting them fall, observing the odd shapes they made on the bottom of your shirt.

You felt some solace and pride that Rafael didn’t see those tears fall.

During a stop light you look out the window and notice a bakery at the corner of the street. With the cab windows rolled down you could smell croissants that must have just come out of the oven. It was wonderful.

Before you could take another whiff, the cab started moving and you found yourself farther and farther away from the bakery.

You cried harder now, as you found yourself unable to erase a singular image ingrained in your mind. The image of the miserable looking clementine located at the back of his fridge.

As much as you knew you were going to regret it your next course of action, you knew you would regret it more if you didn’t.

“Excuse me, sir? Could you please turn the cab around.”

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